You Can't Take What's Not Yours
by dammit-sammy
Summary: In short, Sammy get's felt up by Shifter!Dean while he is being help captive and Dean is so far from being okay with


You can say you never wanted him like this, Sam, but I know your ly-ying," Dean's voice rasped out in a singsong tone. "You may be able to fool everyone else, but you can't fool me." The shifter currently sporting Dean's face was straddled across Sam's lap, its hands wondering across Sam's chest while he spoke. The shifter had caught him in the abandoned parking structure an hour before and tied him up pretty damn well, binding his hands around the back of a pillar. And he knew all of Sam's tricks because Dean knows all of his tricks and this dick knows everything Dean knows, leaving Sam a zero percent chance of Houdining his way out of this one. So, instead, he had to sit here while the freak with his brother's face felt him up.

"Shut the fuck up. He's my brother," Sam protested, pushing against the ropes that held his hands together out of frustration. He HADN'T thought of Dean like that. He couldn't. Although, judging by the growing tightness of his jeans, apparently he could.

"Come on, Sammy," not-Dean purred, leaning down to kiss Sam's collarbone. Sam's breath hitched almost imperceptibly, but his pseudobrother didn't miss it. It smirked as he looked up through his eyelashes at Sam. "Come clean with me here." Its mouth moved up Sam's neck, pausing to suck at his pulse, leaving a mark. "How many times have you fantasized about fucking the hell out of this pretty mouth?" Sam moaned quietly, trying to hold back any action that would betray what he was feeling, but failing miserably. The shifter continued to travel Sam's neck up to his jawline, leaving small bites as it went, finally reaching his ear. "You know, Dean-o would have let you.. if you asked.. Would have let you do anything," the thing murmured, its voice barely audible, its breath sending shivers down Sam's spine. It bit his earlobe before continuing. "Would have let you fuck his goddamn pretty little mouth until his jaw didn't work for a week."

Sam felt his dick hardening further at the thought and he let out his breath in a shuddering heave. "St-stop," he managed to spit out, wanting to get the thing as far away from him as possible.. He wasn't sure what was going on, why what this monster said was getting him all hot and flustered like a fifteen year old, but it was and he didn't fucking like it. He hadn't fantasized about anything, swear to God, he hadn't. But maybe now he would.

"St-st-stop," It mimicked, then it rose onto its knees and scooting back, placed its hands on the fly of Sam's jeans. "It doesn't look like you _really_ mean that, baby boy," it crooned, tearing open the buttons and exposing Sam's underwear-clad dick, hard and already leaking under the cotton. The shifter chuckled and began mouthing at Sam through his underwear and Sam growled, his back arching and his arms straining at the bindings around his wrists. This wasn't supposed to feel good, this was his brother's doppleganger for fuck's sake, but holy hell, did it feel great.

Just at that moment, Sam heard an all too familiar voice exclaim, "What the fuck?" from somewhere to his right and looked up from the shifter to see Dean standing motionlessly about twenty feet away, a sliver knife hanging uselessly from his hand. Dean's eyes darted from the shifter's face to Sam's and then back to the shifter. "You son of a bitch!" Dean hissed, making a determined beeline towards the shifter and dragging it up off Sam by the shirt collar. "What the fuck do you think you're doing, huh?"

He held the knife to the shifter's throat. "Seriously, buddy, it ain't a rhetorical question, what the fuck did you think you were doing?" Dean demanded.

"Just what you're too much of a fucking coward to do," the shifter retorted, a mischievous smile spreading across his face.

And at that, Dean pulled the knife away from it's neck as if he were going to leave it be, only to raise it again and plunge it right into the shifter's heart. He twisted the blade and the thing gasped like a fish out of water, eyes wide and panicked.

"_Don't. touch. Him."_ Dean spat into its face and then pulled out the knife and let go of its shirt, letting it collapse to the ground.

He stood there for a moment, his chest rising and falling a bit faster than normal. He turned abruptly and knelt next to Sam, grabbing the bindings around his wrist to cut him free. Once his hands were free, Sam rubbed where the ropes had chaffed his skin, wincing a little bit. He stood up, remembering that his pants were undone when they began to sag to the floor. He really wished Dean wasn't there at that moment because he didn't want to have to walk around with a hard-on pressed against his fly for who knows how long. He buttoned up his pants and ran his hand over the denim, frowning at the discomfort it caused.

"Come on, Sammy, let's get the hell out of here," Dean said finally, standing about three feet away from Sam and looking very uncomfortable.

"Dean-"

"No chick flick moments, Sammy," Dean interjected, his face hard and his gaze focused on the floor.

"Dean! Let me just-"

"I said drop it, Sam. Let's go," Dean cut him off again, this time looking into Sam's eyes, and on his face, Sam saw a strange almost pleading look.

He obliged, following Dean closely out to the Impala and climbing in. They drove in silence for about ten minutes. Dean hadn't even turned on the radio. Sam finally couldn't take it anymore. "It wasn't my fault, Dean," he said quietly.

Dean looked sideways at Sam and sighed. "Sam, what part of shut the fuck up don't you understand?"

"I don't understand why you are acting like this is my god damn fault, Dean, I didn't do jack shit, I was tied up for Christ's sake." Dean had started to pull over now, and he looked pretty angry, but Sam didn't care, he was acting like a jackass. "It's not like I sat there and asked for it, and I couldn't get out, it knew all my tricks, and maybe, **_maybe_** if you had gotten there faster it would have groped me like it had!"

Dean put the car in park and sat there listening to Sam rant on, arms crossed in annoyance.

"And it's not like it makes any difference to you, anyway, you weren't the one getting violated or anything, I don't see why you're so work-"

Dean lunged across the seat towards Sam, pressing a hand over his brother's mouth. "Stop. Talking. God Dammit." His body was pressed up against Sam, absolutely no space between them, and Sam could feel his jeans getting tighter once again. "It had no goddamn right to take what wasn't its for taking." Dean's eyes were darker than normal, animalistic almost. "No right to touch you like it did," Dean said, his voice less harsh, distracted almost, as he studied his brother's face. He began to remove his hand from Sam's mouth, pausing to run his thumb over Sam's bottom lip, still looking distracted.

"Dean, it didn't even do too-"

"God dammit, Sam!" he shouted. "I don't care what it did, it shouldn't have touched what's doesn't belong to it." And then, moving almost to quickly for Sam to register what was happening, Dean had Sam's face in both his hands and was pressing his mouth against Sam's in a hard, painful kiss. He broke away and put his forehead against Sam's, his breath quick and desperate. He growled, "Shouldn't have touched what's mine."

At that, Sam's chest tightened and his breath hitched. Dean was right. Of course he was right, who else could Sam look to when he was alone? He was all Sam had ever had, all he ever needed and he guessed that went both ways. He looked at his brother's face, so close to his in that moment, and saw that his eves were scared, that he was so nervous that he had done something wrong, had messed everything up. This time, it was Sam who pulled Dean into a heated, desperate kiss, putting his hand on the back of his neck and pulling his brother in closer, kissing him hard enough to bruise. Dean gasped in surprise, as if he had expected some other reaction, which wasn't entirely strange of him to anticipate. This wasn't something Sam had ever imagined would happen. Hadn't even thought about it until twenty some minutes ago when that fucking shifter had felt him up, but now that the idea had been put in his head, he knew he wanted this, wanted his brother pressed up close to him, wanted to taste him. Sam pulled back and murmured, "Who said I'm yours anyway? Maybe… Maybe you're mine," he said in a low voice, a small smile breaking across his face.

Dean chuckled at that and moved so he straddled Sam where he sat on the bench seat of the Impala, in a way that eerily mirrored what the shifter had done. Sam realized that was probably why Dean had chosen that position, reclaiming his territory in a way. But before Sam could think too much about what the shifter had done and how this was different, less room and less.. rope, Dean made fists in his shirt collar and pulled him up, their lips meeting again, Dean kissing him like the world was about to end. "Lie down," Dean grunted in between kisses, his mouth barely leaving Sam's to speak.

Sam pushed Dean back a bit so he had room-when did this car get so god damn small?- and began to lay down, Dean following him quickly, chasing him hungrily with his mouth. Dean began kissing down his neck, nipping in all the right places, places that had been previously marked, almost like he was following a roadmap of places that had been stolen and that he needed to claim. He ran his hands down Sam's chest and finally broke his mouth away from Sam's neck to lean back and rip open his pants violently. He didn't even pause now, didn't even bother stopping to tease Sam even further, he just pulled- no tore- Sam's underwear down and took his already cock in his hand and Sam's hips thrust up involuntarily, his mind racing- this was Dean this was Dean and god he wanted this. And Dean looked up at Sam questioningly before he took him in his mouth, as if to ask if this was still ok. Sam responded by letting his hips buck again and Dean tried slowly to take all of Sam in, quite obviously not having done this before, and choking. He moved back up and tried again, this time more successful, but it was still sloppy and awkward, but not bad. He moved his mouth up the shaft slowly, stopping at the head and swirling his tongue around, pulling out a noise of pleasure from Sam. Dean put his hand on Sam's length again and jacking him, using his mouth to suck and lick at the head. Sam tensed up and moaned and Dean pulled off just as he came over Dean's shirt and the Impala's seat. Dean inched back up the seat to kiss Sam on last time, this time softer and deeper, and then sat back up to pull off his shirt and wipe up the mess on the seat. Sam pulled up his pants and pulled himself back together, feeling a little shaky. Dean threw the shirt in the back seat and grabbed his leather jacket, pulling in on. He looked over at Sam and smiled. "Ready to go, Sammy?"

Sam just stared at him and nodded, not entirely sure what to do or say or even feel. Jesus Christ. By the way Dean was acting, he wasn't even sure if it had happened.

"Oh, and uh, Sammy?" Dean went on, raising his eyebrows, "Don't think I'm just gonna let you get away with that without paying back, if you know what I mean."

Sam laughed and leaned back in his seat as Dean started up the engine and cranked up the radio, silently thanking himself for getting caught so easily by that damn shifter. God, he could kiss that thing square on the mouth right now for bringing this side of Dean out. The grin on Dean's face almost cracked it in half and anything that made him smile like that, Sam was up for. Right now, Sam was up for anything.


End file.
